Avenues of Destruction
by AliceInScribbleLand
Summary: Cuddy has issues with various forms of addictions and doesn't think she needs help.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh God House," she whimpered, trying to pull away from him. "I can't it's too much." She kept telling herself she wasn't going to cry, but even after living in such denial, she recognized the sound of her own voice cracking. She could feel the emotions being drawn to the surface by the bastard holding her and trembled in fear. She struggled angrily trying to get out of his grasp.

House hated to seem so cruel, but she needed this. She wasn't dealing and it was destroying her. He pulled her firmly against his chest, even though she was shaking her head, her eyes pleading with him not to do this. He closed his eyes in a pained expression, ignoring her struggles. He held her tight against him, feeling her panic and struggle inside of the shelter of his arms.

"It hurts too much Greg; please… please don't make me." She was terrified; he could hear it in her voice. He stayed silent holding her head against his chest with one hand while his other arm held her body close to his. He didn't want her to see his own silent tears escaping down his cheeks.

He brought them to the floor, letting his body slide down the wall behind him. She crumpled against him sideways. She sobbed tearlessly against him for a moment, clinging to his shirt and welcoming his embrace. Her breaths were ragged and he could tell she was still trying to keep her emotions in check.

He shook his head, somewhat disappointed. "Let go Lisa, let it out," he whispered in her ear. Instead of having the desired effect, of her falling into his safety net, she once again, was faced with the situation at hand.

She jerked back trying to move away from him, but House was well-prepared for the woman's stubborn nature. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled her towards him between his legs, her back resting against his chest. As she fought against him, he quickly snatched her flailing wrist that was aiming a fist towards his broken thigh.

"You're not getting away from this Lisa," he urged, softly in her ear. "It's killing me to see you destroy yourself." His words were hissed with a desperation that shocked even him.

"Just let me go, I can handle things my way." She begged, exhausted from the mental and physical struggles taking place.

"_That _is not handling anything. It may help, it may get you through today, but that's it. Lisa you have to find something else." He had his arms wrapped across her chest pinning her upper arms to her sides, but loosened his grip slightly. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

She instantly moved her face against his, needing the comfort he was offering. "I've tried," she said, defeated. "I'm just not strong enough. It's too much," she whispered near tears.

"Well," House kissed her temple softly, "It's a good thing you won't have to get over this alone then."

She let out a pained sob at his, declaration, "You don't understand." She was struggling again, desperately trying to pull away from him.

He held her close to him, as she finally started to cry. Rocking her softly back and forth, he listened to her painful sobs and deep gasps for breath. It wasn't just shoulders shaking, gasps for air, and lots of tears. Her entire body was involved. She was desperate and panicked trying to run away from what he wasn't sure. She fought against him as she cried, her whole body trembling.


	2. Chapter 2

When her cries had quieted and her body stilled, House finally gave into his own pain and decided to move them. "Come on Lisa, you need to rest." He nudged at her, waiting for her to stand up.

Cuddy had no fight left in her. He could have told her to do just about anything. After the time she spent crying, with nothing but his voice keeping her grounded, she would have listened to him about anything.

Awkwardly getting to his feet, House groaned from the pain in his thigh. However, the sound was only registered by his own ears. When she made no move to follow him, House sighed and grabbed Cuddy's hand. Slowly the two broken halves made their way to her room.

Cuddy was responsive to nothing, she followed him blindly and emotionally empty. She was only vaguely aware of him helping her into bed or him lying down next to her.

He was too tired to move to a different bed and he wanted to keep an eye on her. She may have given up for the moment, but he knew all about the pull of addictions.

XXXXXX Five Years Earlier XXXXXX

Cuddy sat at the table in the boardroom counting down the minutes left. Meetings always bored her, but this particular one had felt off from the minute she had walked in. She was more than slightly uneasy. They were looking at her different; something was coming. Something she wasn't going to like.

As the room became silent, Cuddy realized they were finished. "Well if that's all we have today, I'd like to thank you all for your input," Cuddy started, attempting to close the meeting.

"There is one more thing, Dr. Cuddy," Wilson said. His eyes were pleading with her to forgive him.

She had to fight not to roll her eyes at him. They always made him deliver the bad news to her. "Yes?" she asked, casually.

"It's about Dr. House. We feel," Wilson looked around at his companions, "The board feels that he is far too reckless for this hospital."

Cuddy was honestly shocked. She hadn't heard news about House since she first hired him. He had always been in trouble those first few weeks. He had been cruel to employees and sarcastic to patients. He had no bedside manner and liked to pull pranks on anyone that would rise to the occasion. She had, however, been keeping him out of trouble lately. There had been no new complaints at all.

"Dr. House is completely back under control. He hasn't had a complaint filed against him in weeks," she defended.

Wilson cringed at the news he had to deliver. "The board has discovered that he also hasn't been following through with all of his responsibilities." Wilson silently begged her for forgiveness in his head. Letting House slide on work had been his idea. Cuddy had only agreed when he urged that the board would be happier with a semi-working yet tolerable House, over a crass and abusive working one.

"Dr. House is still recovering from a traumatic life experience. While I make no excuses for his earlier behavior issues, he is slowly adjusting his life to compensate for his leg. He will be continuing to add to his work level, at a reasonable pace, until he is at the expected level."

She was defending him, again, she knew. It wasn't just about him though, she was saving face. She may run the hospital, but she was playing a boys game and was already three steps behind.

"We feel you have lost control on him Dr. Cuddy or possibly that you never had it," Dr. Harrison said, his tone smug and condescending.

_Control_. The word alone left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. It was the word that had haunted her entire life. She wasn't allowed control. She lacked control. She abused control. She had too much control. Now once again, she had failed at keeping control. The memories were numerous and each haunted her. Her scars were internal, but the pain was real.

"I am and always have been in complete control over Dr. House. I have done incredible things for this hospital that no one else had been able to. If you think that someone like Dr. House is too much for me to handle then you are all very sadly mistaken. I will deal with his work effort first thing tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hospital to run."

She got up and made her way out of the boardroom, leaving no room for argument or opposition. She was the epitome of control as she walked out of that boardroom. Internally, however, she was already beginning to storm. The battle that she had fought her whole life was seeping to the surface. She had to do something.


	3. Chapter 3

Cuddy almost made it back to her office before the panic set in. Breezing past her assistant, she told the boy to hold all her calls. The first thing she did, upon entering the mock sanctuary, was close all her blinds.

That accomplished, she leaned against the door, letting her thoughts raced. She could feel her pulse pumping out of control. Trying to take a few deep breaths, she attempted to focus on calming herself. She had never been a violent person, but the urge to break something was hitting her hard.

Shakily moving to her desk, Cuddy looked for something to busy herself with. No doubt, Wilson was already on his way to her office to apologize. Seeing the pile of papers she still hadn't signed, Cuddy grabbed a pen and began looking them over.

Just as expected, a few moments later, there was a tentative knock on her door. She had only made her way through three of the documents. "Come in," she yelled, just loud enough to be heard from the other side.

Wilson entered, flashing her an apologetic look. Closing the door behind him, he approached her desk. "Cuddy, I had no idea that was coming." He was practically wringing his hands. She couldn't help, but briefly feel sorry for him.

Clicking the top of her pen, the point retracted, leaving the plastic cover dull and useless. "Its fine Wilson," she said, trying to wave him off. She knew her fuse was, uncharacteristically short. While Wilson surely deserved whatever she might do, she didn't want to deal with the aftermath.

Her position as Dean had always required her to keep the same level of cool headedness and clarity. Granted, she had more reason than anyone else did throughout the hospital to throw an occasional temper tantrum. However, she felt no need, to show any such behavior in front of her employees, especially Wilson. Either he would run gossiping to House or she would be stuck dealing with his attempts of help for the rest of the afternoon.

This was the exact type of situation she didn't want to be in with him. Knowing Wilson, he would most likely set her off with lame excuses and shallow apologies. He seemed to stick his hand in everyone's problems, but was never around to deal with the repercussions. She cursed herself for listening to his advice in the first place.

"Lisa, they only approached me about it this afternoon," he pleaded. He seemed sincere, but Wilson always seemed sincere. She briefly wondered if this was how his ex wives had felt, when he would come home and lie about where he had been. Could someone honestly be sincere about everything and it still be genuine?

Hands hidden behind her desk, she began to push the empty tip of her pen against her right palm. As he continued to speak, she pressed harder against her flesh. It wasn't enough to break the sink, just enough pressure to feel the pain. Her body slowly began to respond and she could feel herself calming slightly.

Giving him her best administrator smile, she spoke, "_Doctor_ Wilson, it's fine." She hoped the use of his formal title, would help keep him at a distance. "All you did was offer me advice. I made my own choices."

As a look of relief washed over his features, Cuddy jammed the pen harder against her palm. "I'm so glad you're not upset," he somewhat laughed, "I was really worried you'd be mad, Lisa."

She cringed inwardly, at the continued use of her first name. Were they even having the same conversation? She had practically been accused of not, being able to do her job and all he was worried about was if she was mad at him.

Tuning back in, she noticed he was still rambling. "…I should have known you'd be great about this. Listen, if there's anything I can do to help with House," he urged with over dramatic hand gestures.

Cuddy shook her head no, trying to keep the polite smile plastered to her face. "It's fine Wilson. I'll take care of it. Now if you don't mind," she trialed off, eyeing the stack of papers. She hoped this time he would take the hint.

"Oh right, well I'll see you later then," Wilson said, as he left. He shot her another boyish smile, as he shut her door. He, obviously, didn't understand the severity of what she had been accused of.

Taking a deep breath, Cuddy glanced down at her still tensed hands. Forcing them to relax, she closed her eyes focusing on the blood that was pooling back into her right palm. She dropped the pen in her lap. Makin fists with both hands, she tried to stop their trembling.

Moving the pen from her lap to the desk's semi-cluttered surface, she cursed the whole situation. Resting her elbows on her desk, Cuddy's fists made their way towards her mouth. Leaning against them, she closed her eyes. If she could just make it through the rest of the day, she would be fine.

XXXXXX Present Day XXXXXX

It was only hours later when House awoke, confused and disoriented. It took him a few moments to realize he wasn't in his own bed or even in his own apartment. It took several more moments for him to realize, the quiet noise that had awoken him, was Cuddy. Her muffled gasps for breath did little to hide the fact that she was in tears once more.

He wiped his eyes, trying to become slightly more alert. His groggy brain ran through the events of the evening, leaving him wondering why she was even still in bed with him if she was awake. Cuddy was like him, in the sense that she never wanted to need help. If she were functioning normally, she would never let him see her cry, especially after everything that had happened.

Rolling onto his side, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Cuddy?" he asked, quietly. Her body tensed and all became quiet. They stayed like that frozen, until her tears finally overtook her resolve. Crying harder, she rolled over towards him. Instantly, she was pressed tight against his chest. Hoping to hide from him and seek comfort all at once.

Not knowing what to do, House simply wrapped his arms around her. He hoped she wouldn't fight the small comfort. He didn't have the energy to go through that again. He could feel her clutching at his shirt, trying to find some sort of security.

"I need help House," she whimpered, into his tear stained t-shirt. He felt sick at the confession. As much as he wanted her to admit she had a problem, he never wanted to hear her sound so defeated. Wrapping his arms more securely, he pulled her close to against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, trying to comfort himself as well.

House didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at platitudes and she wouldn't believe him anyways. The only thing he could offer her was himself. He would be there for her, no matter how bad things got. He wasn't going to let her addiction destroy her. "I won't leave you," he confessed, kissing the top of her head again. He nuzzled his tear stained cheeks against her hair, repeating the movement until the top of her hair was as damp, as his t-shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

Cuddy woke up only to find herself wrapped strongly in unfamiliar arms. Looking at the extra warmth in her bed, she realized House was holding her. Her first thoughts were silent prayers that she hadn't slept with him again. As the memories flooded her brain, she sadly wished she had slept with him. It would be easier to deal with than the reality.

Pulling away from his arms seemed a bigger challenge then she expected. Her movements only caused him to draw her closer. The feeling of panic set in and she jerked roughly out of his arms.

"Stop wiggling," he mumbled, sleepily. His hands found her waist and tried to pull her back to him. When she still resisted, two sleep blue eyes opened to identify the trouble. "You hardly slept last night, lay back down," he growled.

"You need to leave," she said, quietly and calmly, too calmly. The obvious discomfort had her nearly shaking, no matter what the tone in her voice portrayed. She was mad at him for being there, but more mad at herself for giving in the night before. Showing House her vulnerabilities was surely the worst thing she could do.

"Lisa-" he urged, sitting up on one elbow. His tone had a note of comfort and support to it. She hated it. She didn't need his compassion. He would surely use this against her eventually. Even if he didn't, she didn't need help, especially from him.

"Don't call me that," she nearly screamed. "Just leave," she climbed off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. "If you really want to help, leave before I get back," she said, coldly.

House just stared after her. He knew he should have expected this kind of reaction, but after the night before. Sighing, realized he was a fool for thinking that she was beginning to trust him. That didn't mean that he was that easy to scare off.

Slamming the door behind her, Cuddy leaned back against it. Eyes closed and breathe coming in pants, she tried to steady herself. This was not good. She knew she was pushing her own limits, but she had to get him out of there. Weakness was not an option.

"Cuddy," House yelled pounding on the door. The minute he heard the lock slide in place, he knew he had screwed up. She was in one of the worst possible rooms in the house. Bathroom and kitchen, the two places he had planned to keep her clear of. "Dammit Cuddy, open the door."

Her hand stopped at his voice. Halfway between her body and a razor she froze. It wasn't as if he could see what she was going to do, but something in his tone made her believe that he knew. It didn't matter, though. She would get rid of him, then do as she liked. "I thought I told you to leave," she yelled, bracing herself against the counter.

"When have I ever done as you asked?" he questioned, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. This he could work with. If she was bantering she was less likely to be doing anything, he would have noticed a change in her tone. "Open the door or I'll knock it off its hinges Lisa." He let her first name linger, voicing the small control he had over her.

"With your leg?" she questioned, bitterly. She didn't doubt that he _could _do it, only that he _would_. It wasn't like House to exert any more force than necessary. She could relay safely on that piece of knowledge.

"Quit analyzing and open the damn door," he urged, running a hand along the top of the frame. He knew it wasn't an option, but he wanted to keep her thinking and not focused on other things. Smiling to himself, he moved the small brass key to the whole in the doorknob. On the second attempt, he had the lock undone and the door open. "Are you done pouting?" he asked, with nothing but tension in his voice.

"Get the hell out of my house," she said, with a venomous tone full of malice. Her eyes showed something akin to hatred, as she glared at him. There was nothing to suggest anything except pure anger.

"Cuddy," he said, softly. His actions over the past years had been nothing close to friendly, but they were nothing like this. "You asked me for help, even if you hadn't, I'm not leaving. You can boss me around work all you want, but here I'm not your employee." His words failed him, unable to admit that he saw her as a friend.

Before she could react, he had pulled her against his chest. Despite her aversion to him, the comfort caught her off guard. It had been so long since she had allowed anyone to touch her like this. It was intimate, but not sexual, emotional, but not needy. He was offering everything and asking for little in return. "I don't want help," she whispered.

"You think I don't know that? How many times have you tried to get me off my own vices? The pills, the alcohol, even the puzzles. Do you think so little of me that you think I wouldn't do the same for you?" He asked, honestly hurt. It wasn't like him to be this open and exposed, but the one thing he understood was other people and how they worked. If she was going to open up to him, he needed to start by opening up himself. He was still in control over what he shared and told himself it was only so she would open up, he wasn't being honest. Manipulation was safe, even if it was for her best interest and not his.

"House," she said, dropping her head against his shoulder. Pulling herself back out of his arms, she responded, "You're not the one I think lowly of." Smiling wryly, she walked towards her dresser in search of something casual to wear.

Nodding in satisfaction, he felt confident that he could leave her alone for at few moments. "Mind if I grab a shower?" he asked, gesturing towards the now empty room.

Arching an eyebrow in response, she asked, "Would it matter if I did?" Not waiting for a response, she went back to the task at hand. Picking out a pair of jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, she closed the door to her walk-in closet and changed inside.

"Probably not," he answered closing and locking the door behind himself. Shaking his head at her naivety, he reached inside the shower and turned the water on. Letting the noise mask his actions, he began to gather up everything sharp in her bathroom he could find. Dumping one of her make-up bags into the sink, he placed all the offending articles inside.

Cuddy was stepping into a pair of shoes, as House re-entered the bedroom. Glancing at him, it took a second glance to notice what was in his hands. "Why do you have my make-up?" she asked, trying to hide to hide the nervousness in her tone. "You and Wilson planning a sleepover?"

"Oh you," he said, teasingly with an over abundance of flair. "You really don't have the right tones for our complexions." Not offering any other details, he headed further into the room. His own brain was tuned to a much more serious note.

There was no way he could clean out her entire home of things she could hurt herself with, but the bathroom was a good start. That was the one room she would want privacy and now could have. "I hope you've shaved recently," he added, plopping down on her bed.

She snapped her head around to look at him. "Why?" she asked, her tone lingered, knowingly. He was up to something and whatever it was, it was bad for her.

"I just don't think you'll enjoy shaving your legs in front of me, although, I have no issues with it. But knowing you, your own vanity won't allow you to go without." He lay back resting both hands behind his head, watching her expectantly, as she stormed to her bathroom.

The first thing she noticed was that the water was still on. Sighing, she went straight to the shower and turned it off. Not seeing any huge disasters, she looked around curiously. Her makeup was casually dumped in the sink, but he hadn't destroyed it or made a mess. His words about shaving echoed in her ears and she snatched the shower curtain open. Finding none of her razors, she checked under the sing. Her razors, scissors, and anything else remotely sharp were gone.

House knew he was in store for trouble. He wasn't worried about her reaction. The most she would do would be yell at him, however keeping an eye on her until he was satisfied, would be the more difficult problem. This wasn't like his own attempts at detoxing, granted both were faced with an addiction. His was in the form of a pill. She, on the other hand, could get her relief from almost anything.

"So what you figure you throw out all my razors and your job is done? That I can't just go buy more? You have no right House, but if that gets you out of here fine," she hissed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"Oh no my job hasn't even begun to get interesting," he hissed. "This doesn't have to be like this. You and your stubborn pride won't let it be simple though," he nearly yelled, rising off the bed and heading towards her.

"Simple? You think this is easy House?" She glared up at him, now toe to toe. "And if either of us can be accused of stubborn pride it has and always will be you," she snapped, turning on her heals to head out of the room.

Grabbing her at the arm, he spun her back around to face him. Eyes blazing he looked down at her angrily. He watched as her chin tilted in defiance. She was determined and that was dangerous for her. "Admit you have a problem," he said, icily.

"You are the last person I would admit anything to. After all the shit you've put me through. How dare you come in here and not only act like I have a problem, but you act as if it's a hassle. You are uncaring and heartless. I wouldn't turn to you if you were my only hope." Snatching her arm out of his grasp, she quickly moved from the room.

He was still standing in her bedroom, absorbing the hurtful words, when he heard the front door slam shut. Rubbing his face in his hands he realized, he had utterly failed her.


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING: This is the first chapter with graphic details. Mentions in this chapter are of cutting. If you are easily triggered please skip and stay safe.

XXXXXX

Standing outside her home, Cuddy looked in the general direction of her car. Her face was absent of any emotion. Eyes wide and staring it was obvious that she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. Shaking her head, she decided she was too upset to drive anywhere. Work would be a great distraction, but it was her day off and her laptop was inside. She didn't plan to return until she knew he was gone.

She knew it was only a matter of time before he started looking for her. He never gave up easily. She knew House cared about her, though she would never admit it. She just wasn't ready to face what he expected from her. She needed time to think and clear her head. Failing to notice the figure watching her from her front window, she headed down the sidewalk towards the park. As she walked, her mind drifted back to the start of her current trouble.

XXXXXX Five Years Earlier XXXXXX

Slamming her front door shut behind her, Cuddy let the board's earlier statements wash over her. Between the meeting with him and her interactions with Wilson later, she was emotionally exhausted. She dropped her bags in a nearby chair and pulled her coat off. Then there was House. She laughed bitterly to herself. He had never been the best mannered, but given the circumstances things could be much worse.

Feeling more than a little defeated she decided to take a long hot bath. Heading to the kitchen first, Cuddy pulled out a bottle of red wine from the back of her pantry. Finding a glass and her corkscrew, she opened the bottle and poured herself a glass. Carrying both the glass and bottle into the bathroom, she willed her body to relax.

She knew that she was spiraling out of control. She could feel it in every tensed muscle of her body. The inklings of a migraine were beginning to appear and her thoughts were racing around inside her head. She felt the desire to smash her glass, the bottle of wine, and anything else she could reach. Instead, she turned the water on, hands trembling. The adrenaline that still coursed through her veins was overwhelming. Using her thumbs to apply pressure to the opposite palms, she willed the itching and strange sensations to stop. She squeezed the joints in her fingers, as tears filled her eyes.

Taking a long sip from her glass, she placed it on the corner of the tub and began to strip. With a determination based purely on survival, her actions were articulate and precise. Once naked, she took a deep breath and moved towards the tub. She shut the water off and stepped in.

In a silent rage, she sat naked on the side of the tub. She lifted her feet and rested them on the opposite side, balancing herself above the water. Steam from the bathwater rose up, rising around her flesh in waves. She closed her eyes tight and thought about the brief moment of peace she had felt in her office that afternoon.

As the pen had pressed deeper into her flesh, the pain had overtaken everything else. Her head had cleared and her emotions calmed. It was an elixir that she wasn't prepared to scrutinize. Her eyes popped open and she wondered if she could bring about that relief again. Darting her glance towards her razor, she shook her head. That was too extreme. Next, her eyes found the heated bathwater. That wouldn't be enough.

Tilting her head back, she raked her nails down the outsides of her thighs. A small hint of serenity followed, but it was gone just as quickly. Digging her nails in a little deeper, she repeated the action. It was working, but the peace was always short lived. The scratches lining her legs weren't enough.

Taking heavy quick breaths, she weighed the benefits of her arms against the cons of having to hide them for a week. Her thighs stung from the several failed attempts at easing the storm raging inside. She knew it would be a hassle to hide anything adorning her arms. A pair of paints or a long skirt would be more than enough to hide her legs.

Cuddy clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to make the ache in them go away. The rush of hormones from her panic coursed through them; a constant reminder of the need for release. Looking down at her arms, she experimentally ran her nails teasingly down one arm. She used just enough pressure to scratch without leaving a mark.

This was a much more satisfying form of serenity. She reassured herself that the weather had been getting cooler. It wouldn't be too unusual for her to wear sleeves considering the change in temperature. She let her eyes trail back to the corner of her tub.

Hand trembling, she reached for the razor. Stopping halfway, she let out a broken sob. Clutching her eyes shut, she willed the pain to go away on its own. She didn't want it to be like this. Her constant prison seemed to be the only thing capable of keeping her functioning.

Forcing herself, she took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. Stealing her reserve, she snatched the pink plastic disposable off the corner of the tub and gripped it tightly in her left hand. She fidgeted for a moment, hating to give in to her obvious weakness. Rolling the razor between her outstretched palms, she dropped her head in acceptance.

As the tears seeped from her eyes down her skin, she held the razor tightly in her left hand. Outside of her crying, Cuddy's exterior was cool and calculating. Pressing the razor against the flesh of her right arm, she pushed until she could take it no more. Sliding the metal along her flesh, she felt the new pain of the skin breaking. Eyes closed she absorbed the mixture of pain and relief.

She watched the blood pool to the surface and stared. As the crimson liquid stained her skin, she felt her own pain racing away from her body. After a moment, she brushed the razor along her skin once more. Forty minutes later, both of her arms were covered top and bottom with chaotically placed cuts.

She had taken her time, pausing between each incision to relish the aftermath. She had focused in awe, amazed at the change in her feelings. No cuts were near her wrists and nothing deep enough to cause any real damage. Taking her first breath of unrestricted air, she carefully dipped the tip of the razor into the water to clean it off and then placed it back on the side of the tub.

Cuddy sat in the tub. Her eyes were glazed over, as she stared at the empty abyss before her. As her mind wandered, she began to slowly shut down. She no longer felt the water around her cooling to an uncomfortable temperature. She no longer felt the sting of the words spoken to her that afternoon. She no longer felt the emptiness inside that threatened to swallow her whole. All was motionless and quiet in her world.

The still waters, surrounding her, were only disrupted by the occasional drips from the hot water faucet; scalding water dripping into a sea of cold. Enough to force her to remember she was alive, but not enough to warm.

Closing her eyes, she relished the silence and stillness. Forcing herself to ignore the warmer drips calling to her chilled skin and soul, she focused on forgetting.


	6. Chapter 6

House watched her walk down the street, wondering what to do. She needed space. He understood that. If she was going to get better, it had to be her choice. At the same time, his protective nature didn't want her out of his site. More important than her comfort was her safety. Snatching her keys off the hook by the door, he made his way outside and to her car.

Cuddy made it to the end of the road, before she started to break into a steady jog. Her mind was rushing and she couldn't slow it down. Help was the last thing she had expected from House. She knew he worried about her, what she didn't know was if she could rely on him. There were so many warning bells ringing out at her that she didn't understand why she was even considering opening up to him.

His hand shook as it hesitated against the ignition switch. Going after her would solidify his intentions. If he walked away now, they could both overlook how he almost reached out to her. Looking out the window in the direction she had headed, he flipped his wrist. There were few things he was willing to be uncomfortable for, Lisa Cuddy had just topped that list.

Leaning over the park water fountain, Cuddy took several mouthfuls. She tried to soothe the burn in her throat, but the water merely made her cringe. The tangy taste of metal mixed with dirt left a less than pleasurable flavor in her mouth. Wiping her mouth, she sat down on the top of an empty picnic table. Catching her breath, she leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees.

She didn't see her car pull in and park in the parking lot behind her. She didn't see House sitting in her car, watching, unsure about what to do. It wasn't until she heard the soft patter of his footsteps that she realized he had followed her. "Hey," she said, nervously. She didn't turn to face him, still unsure if she could look him in the eye. Instead, she took a steadying breath and tried to relax her body language.

"Hey," House said softly, as he sat down next to her. "Feel any better?" he asked, not sure if he was ready for the answer, let alone the conversation.

Cuddy couldn't help but laugh at the question. Turning to House, she looked for any insincerity in his eyes. When she found nothing, but concern she looked away nervously. Rubbing her upper arms for warmth, she shivered as the fall weather hit her. It was too cold for her to be running around in what she had on. "A bit," she said quietly, "Just needed to clear my head I guess."

House nodded silently. He understood her discomfort with his new behavior. He wasn't altogether settled with the idea either. Slipping his coat off, he wrapped it around her shoulders. When she met his gaze with a questioning expression, he had to look away. "I don't understand it either," he said, quietly. Grabbing her hand in his, he tugged on it gently.

Her eyes closed as he brought her hand closer. When his lips collided with her flesh, she let out a shaky breath. As they sat there in silence, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Watching nothing in particular, they sat like that for several minutes, just being with each other.

"Ready to head back?" he asked, as he felt her weight get heavy against his arm. The past few days had been exhausting, but the worst might still be to come. "We need to agree on some ground rules and I need you to show me your regular triggers, as well as any patterns you keep."

"House, I don't know if I'm ready," she said, nervously. She looked up at him, with a raw helplessness seldom shown. "What if I can't?"

"You?" he smirked at her. "Cuddy over the past twenty odd years, I have never seen you encounter anything you couldn't overcome. Why do you think this is any different?" He waited for her response, but when he was met with silence he added, "You're ready. I know you are."

She had her eyes closed, blocking out as much as possible. His words sounded so believable that they frightened her. If he was right, her whole system would have to change. If he was wrong, she didn't want to think about it. The disappointment in his eyes would devastate her. It was better to fail now than to give him any sort of hope.

"No Greg, you're wrong," she said, getting up and heading to her car. She didn't wait for him to follow. Instead, she climbed into the passenger side and waited. If he wanted to do this that was fine. It wouldn't be like she could stop him. However, she wasn't going to give herself or him any of the hope that he thought was possible. It just wasn't logical. Her whole life there had been something to fall back on. That's the only way she had been able to survive.

House sighed, knowing that it would always be like this. Survival mechanisms often caused as much damage as protection in cases like these. Just when he thought he was reaching her she would shut herself back down. She was afraid of opening up to him, afraid to trust him. Getting into the care next to her, he started the engine and began to drive in random directions.

"Where are we going?" Cuddy snapped, frustrated. She didn't like disorder. Chaos always proved to be nothing but trouble. Then she realized that was his point. "We're not going anywhere are we?" She was met with his silent smirk. "We're not going anywhere until I talk to you?" she questioned.

"Two for two, you're on a roll. Want to keep the ball rolling?" House asked sarcastically. If she wanted to act like a child, he would treat her like one. Continuing to turn the car in random directions, he intentionally tried to disorient her.

Closing her eyes, she sighed. Blocking out the chaos, she instead focused on her memories. "The first time was six years ago…."


End file.
